That's what people do! Even me, even you
by Digital Sparrow El
Summary: Moriarty reaching the end of his life for real when a Snow White obsessed figure fatally stabs him in an alleyway, one snowy Winter's day. Fem!Sherlock, mentions of Fem!John. Slight hints of Sheriarty. Rated T to be safe. One-shot. My first fanfiction, but I think you might like it! Working on the title...


**Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock or any of the characters. Those belong to their respective owners. I do, however, own the plot of this one-shot. **

**Yes, there is Fem!Sherlock and minor hints of Sheriarty. If you don't like it, then do not read.**

"Mirror, mirror, on the wall, who's the smartest of them all?" the dark figure chanted, as he had Moriarty by the throat. Before the latter had a chance to reply with one of his own witty, flirty comebacks, the figure spoke again, mockingly, "Not you!" and the dagger which the figure grasped in his hand slid into the abdomen of the consulting psychopathic criminal. It was withdrawn after a few painful seconds, during which Moriarty was forced to let out a slight gasp of pain. He looked at the figure with an expression not unlike the look of surprise he gave Sherrienna Holmes a few years prior. The figure then let go of Moriarty's throat, and he dropped the bloody dagger to the floor, his thickly gloved hand left barely visible fingerprints on it, and he left.

Moriarty slid to the cold floor, blood blossoming over his shirt and blazer, dripping onto the snowy pavement of the alleyway, where it spread like a web or a series of tree branches. His eyes then fell on the dagger, which was now partly buried in the continuously falling thick snow. He looked at his own blood, as his breathing became more shallow and he analyzed the fiercely smudged fingerprints. Suddenly, he heard the soft crunching of snow under footprints.

Turning his head to see the black shoed feet and dark trousers, he didn't need to catch sight of her coat, which the hem of it hung just above her ankles, to know who it was.

"James Moriarty," Sherrienna spoke, her voice the usual, bored tone, "who would've thought that it _wasn't _you behind the explosions, injuries and deaths,"

"And the poison apples," Moriarty muttered, without looking up.

"Who was it?" Sherrienna suddenly asked, crouching down to be eye level with her arch-enemy. She then looked over the evidence which had done the damage to the man. Dagger - smudged fingerprints, must've had thick gloves on. Lots of blood - wound must be deep, but recent. Still a chance to save him...

"Don't you bother, Sherrienna Holmes," Moriarty hissed - dying was far better alone then the person who you despised trying - and failing - to save you. Sherrienna, however, was hardly fazed by this reaction; she actually expected it, in a way.

"Don't you remember what you said?" the consulting detective asked, a little sharply. The consulting criminal looked over Sherrienna's features and detected... panic?

He gave no reply, as Sherrienna then added, "About us?" she looked at his paling face. He was clearly hiding any emotion that he had. Sherrienna decided to press on; she had to help, but she didn't know why.

"Remember? 'You're nothing without me, and I'm nothing without you,'"

"Oh, that. Yeah, bor-ing!" came the child-like reply at last from Moriarty. Even when he was close to death, it seemed, he could still be his usual self. It was infuriating!

"Where's your pet, Johanna, anyway?" (weaker, quieter tone now. Sherrienna was running out of time).

"She isn't my pet, and she's tending to some... people," Sherrienna replied, coldly, then she set about trying to clean the wound with an antiseptic wipe from a small medical bag she had stolen from Johanna - it had been much easier than anticipated - but Moriarty's hand was in the way.

"You're forgetting what I also said..." Moriarty started, his voice a little louder than a whisper. Sherrienna narrowed her eyes, and she leaned forwards slightly, moving his hand away. He did not appear to notice, as he continued after an agonising pause. "People die. That's what people do, Sher..."

Sherrienna was taken aback slightly, as she cleaned to wound to find out just how bad it was. Moriarty never called her 'Sher', but he was carrying on, "even me... even you."

A silence hung in the air, and Sherrienna grasped Moriarty's right hand, out of some instinct. They looked at each other directly in the eyes, but what was normally daggers and hatred towards each other... there was something different. Something unnatural that two people such as those two should not have. The brief connection was broken quickly, though, as Sherrienna was the first to glance away, the dark eyes that were like bottomless pits becoming too much too look at for so long. However, she refused to let go of his wrist and hand.

_"I will see you in Hell," _Moriarty mouthed, unable to get the words out. The glint in his bright eyes started to fade, as his body had finally shut down, his fantastic mind losing power, and his once stony heart slowed to a halt. He no longer heard, saw or felt anything much more, but the grip that Sherrienna had on his hand and wrist was... comforting, in a way. His blank eyes saw black, just after the images of his life flashed by, the last one being Sherrienna.


End file.
